


Stages of Acceptance

by Caught_up_in_Circles



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father + Son + Father + Matriarch, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s04e08 Father + Son + Father + Matriarch, discussions of grief and mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caught_up_in_Circles/pseuds/Caught_up_in_Circles
Summary: James is gone, Mac searches for a way to cope.  Set after Father + Son + Father + Matriarch.The wake had been a blur.  His friends had shaken his hand and hugged him and Mac had returned their embraces because he knew that he was supposed to.
Relationships: Angus MacGyver/Desiree "Desi" Nguyen
Kudos: 7





	Stages of Acceptance

Mac just wanted to feel. 

Desi was soft and warm and lithe. She arched and heat spiked through Mac. 

That was what he wanted. That. Heat, curves and hard gasps of pleasure. You don’t feel grief when you’re fucking. The pounding of your heart and the hot slide of ‘god, yes,’ drown everything else out. 

Desi understood that. Mac was sure she did. Desi struggled to communicate her emotions with words and since Mac did too conversations between them about their emotional truths could be stilted, but Desi understood using your physicality for self-expression. Her tattoos were evidence of that. She pushed back against Mac and an involuntary ‘Ah’ left him in a harsh breath. 

James MacGyver’s funeral had taken place that morning. Desi had stood beside Mac in a black dress and he had stared at the pile of dirt that was destined to fill his father’s grave with no idea of what he was supposed to feel. The wake had been a blur. His friends had shaken his hand and hugged him and Mac had returned their embraces because he knew that he was supposed to. People pressed food on him and he’d eaten it without tasting anything and thanked everyone for their condolences. If his father had strolled into the room and announced that the whole thing had been a ruse for a mission, if armed raiders had burst through the French windows or a hurricane had taken the roof off the building Mac wouldn’t have been shocked because nothing around him felt locked in reality. A firefight with balaclava wearing mercenaries would have been a welcome distraction - it would have been something for him to focus on other than the insanity of having watched an empty coffin bearing a plaque with his father’s name etched on it being lowered into the ground. 

Desi had taken Mac’s hand as they’d left the wake. She’d led him to his new truck, steered him into the passenger seat and driven them home. 

‘This is the world without my dad in it’, he’d thought as they’d maneuverer through traffic. James MacGyver hadn’t always been in Mac’s life but he had always been somewhere, overseeing and moving and living and breathing. His dad hadn’t always been there for him but he had been part of the world. He’d brushed his teeth, drunk scalding hot coffee and thought about his wife every day, and now he wasn’t with Mac but he wasn’t doing any of those things either. He was gone. Literally as well as metaphorically. The explosion he’d set off in Codex’s headquarters had levelled the building, and when it’s fire had erupted every atom of the mortal body of James MacGyver had been obliterated. 

A world without his dad felt different from the one that Mac had existed in before for no reason he could explain. He’d barely had the presence of a father to miss, and while there wasn’t a void where James had been there was a vacuum in the space he could have inhabited. Mac felt that absence beside him but he was also aware of it being far away from him, in the Not Here place James had occupied for most of his life. Mac hated it, he wanted to rail at that space full of nothing, he wanted to tell it to leave him alone but it wasn’t even there - how can you rage at a thing that doesn’t exist? Mac wondered if he was losing his mind. 

Desi led Mac into his house and turned to him, taking his face in her palms, and he’d kissed her. She kissed him back gently, expecting the kiss to be a plea for comfort, but Mac turned it into something urgent and needy. He pressed forward, not breaking the kiss, steering him and Desi into his bedroom more by memory than sight. 

Mac stopped walking when he and Desi were stood next to his bed and unzipped Desi’s dress, tugging at the black fabric until it pooled around her feet. She kicked it aside and stepped out of her shoes. Desi’s skin was soft and Mac could feel her muscles shifting under her skin as she moved with and against him. She’d exhaled as his hands had slid up to cup her breasts through the lace of her bra and Mac had felt her settle into the understanding of what he needed. She was prepared to lead where he followed and be with him as he reached for what he sought. He heard a declaration in her kisses: ‘I’m with you, I’ve got you, I love you’. 

Mac and Desi had made love and they’d fucked. How they connected physically changed with their mood and with what they both needed. Sometimes something that started gently became fierce with a caress, sometimes something that had been hungry became heartfelt with a whisper. Mac usually liked to explore and play, to try new things or do favoured things in a different way, and so did Desi. They matched each other in bed and even during the times when their relationship had been difficult the physical side between them had always worked. Slow and sensual sex was always good, really good, and it could be a way for Mac to forget who he was, but standing in his bedroom in the suit he wore to funerals wasn’t a time for mindful exploration. Mac needed something urgent. To have Desi under him and around him and for everything else to be shoved away. 

Desi’s bra joined the pile of her clothes on the floor, followed quickly by her panties, and she was naked in front of him. Her hands slipped from Mac’s shoulders to the belt of his trousers, eased his fly open and pushed inside and - the noise Mac made when Desi’s hand curled around him sounded pained - she was perfect. Real and solid and there, touching him while he touched her. And the sharp heat in his cock couldn’t be more different from the thick, suffocating grief he’d been drowning in. 

Desi’s lips caressed Mac’s neck with a hint of teeth, her hands moved and Mac’s stomach muscles clench with need. He pulled his shirt and tie off and steered Desi towards his bed, pushing the rest of his clothes away. 

Pliant in his arms, quiet but watchful, Desi put herself into Mac’s clumsy, shaking hands, allowing herself to be moved where he wanted. 

“I...” Mac paused between kisses to Desi’s shoulder blades to stammer. He’d been knelt between her thighs, almost inside her, when a thread of doubt or shame skittered through his ribs. 

Desi twisted, gave him a kiss on his cheek that was oddly chaste considering their position, and the thread was gone, driven away by a heartbeat that pulsed understanding and safety through Mac’s chest. 

Mac slid a hand down then eased carefully forwards, pushing up and in, and his elation at the feeling of being held, being surrounded and being with was so intense he had to hold his breath, clench his jaw and wait the moment out so it didn’t become too much. 

Desi let out a pleased hum that became a moan and Mac twitched his hips once, twice, again, and was soon rocking with a rhythm he had little control of. 

Mac liked to watch, liked adding another layer of input to the sensations he and Desi gave each other. The sight of Desi above him, her head thrown back as she got lost in the feeling of driving herself against him, her lips curving in wicked intent as she kissed her way down his body or with her eyes bright with delight and her hair covering his pillow was as erotic as the pleased sigh she gave when he sank his fingers inside her and curved them up just so. Mac could never get enough. But he closed his eyes, wanting only what his body told him as he thrust with a hard edge of desperation. The mattress under his knees, Desi’s hips held in his palms, sweat trickling down his spine and his cock, hard and full, sweetly aching with pure pleasure - they were an escape. His body a vessel to flee his mind. 

He couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow, just thrust harder and faster, gritting his teeth as the tight, sharp delight built. He could touch it, the freedom from death and loss he’d carried with him since he’d turned away from his father in the basement of the Codex building. If he kept moving inside Desi’s body and acceptance of him he could find it and be released. 

Desi gasped and writhed against Mac to press into the way their bodies met. Her breathing was ragged and broken with moans. Mac wanted her to feel good too. He wanted to bring her with him to the place he was seeking where everything was light and free. He would get her there, if not with him then he would help her find it later. Watching her melt into the joy he gave her was another type of satisfaction, one that always made him feel powerful and wanted. 

“Ah – ah!” 

Mac’s body was singing, bright with an electric glow of bliss. His groin tightened, his heart pounded and his mind filled with a starburst of white. His hand’s gripped Desi as he rode out the light behind his eyes and the rapture where his limbs had been. Nothing mattered, nothing was his fault or his responsibility, he was loved and he loved. 

The bliss ebbed, Mac’s legs could no longer hold his weight and he crumpled forward. Desi slipped far enough out of his embrace to gently lower him to the bed and kicked at the blankets until she could cover them both with Mac’s sheets. 

Mac reached for her with exhausted gracelessness and Desi tucked him against her then pushed his sweaty hair from his eyes. Mac’s drew in an ugly, shuddering breath then let out a sigh against Desi’s collarbone. She had her arms around him, Mac could feel one of her hands on his lower back and the other resting on his neck, so he was still safe from everything that had been hounding him. Maybe, Mac nuzzled his nose against the hollow of 

Desi’s neck, if they always stayed like that everything would be okay. They were strong and good together, maybe that would be enough to keep all the badness away. 

Desi pressed a kiss of care-filled gentleness against Mac’s forehead. He closed his eyes, listened for the steady beat of Desi’s heart, and slept. 


End file.
